


Your Eyes on Me (Makes All the Difference)

by mediocre-writing (elleavantemm)



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, not-so-happy-endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-04
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleavantemm/pseuds/mediocre-writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott notices him, for the first time <i>really</i> notices him, and that makes all the difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Eyes on Me (Makes All the Difference)

Scott notices him, for the first time _really_ notices him, and that makes all the difference.

After the full moon, after Scott and Stiles broke Isaac – _Isaac_ – out of the sheriff’s department holding cell, Isaac becomes a whole different person. There’s a confidence in his step, a kind of easy swagger, that makes the addition of a leather jacket on his back and Erica with her razor sharp smile by his side seem completely natural. Where once Isaac sat at the back of the class, quiet and with his head down, he now sits in the middle of the room, to the left and just behind Scott in all their shared classes, his long limbs sprawled out around him; unable to be contained by the rigidity of the small desk.

Scott is looking at him constantly these days, and if anything is makes Isaac bolder; after all, he’d been seeing Scott’s attention for a long time. He lets his feet tap out an erratic rhythm on the back of Scott’s chair in class, offering up nothing more than a cheeky smile when the other turns around, disgruntled. He leans too far into Scott’s personal space to ask or answer questions, revealing in the slight hitch of breath.

He’s acting like a child because, okay, Isaac likes Scott. But there’s Allison, and even someone who was deaf, mute, and blind could tell that Scott was head over heels in love with her. So it isn’t as though Isaac could just take Scott aside and say, “I like you,” without any fear of rejection. So he pulls at metaphorical pig tails and watches the way that Scott reacts. Erica thinks it’s all hilarious, telling Isaac that he’s pathetic; but Isaac is quick to return that she’s doing basically the same thing with Stiles. It always ends in a fight until Derek breaks it up with a long suffering sigh and a truly terrifying alpha roar.

The more that Isaac invades Scott’s personal space, casual touches, loose and easy smiles, the more he notices that Scott’s heart always speeds up a bit. It isn’t until Isaac overhears Stiles and Scott talking about their inability to get tickets to the rave that Isaac sees an opening. He gives them his assurances, patting Stiles on the chest as he passes between them, and he gets a note of… jealousy? It makes Isaac maybe a little bit too pleased.

They’re huddled together amongst the crush of bodies. Scott is handing Isaac the injection for Jackson. Their fingers brush and it’s electric. Isaac leans in closer to hear what Scott is saying to him. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he hears, but he’s distracted by the movement of Scott’s mouth. He doesn’t mean to, but then there’s the soft press of Scott’s mouth, parted mid-speech and a little in surprise, and Isaac can’t help the soft moan that creeps out. It’s not even a real kiss, not really. No one is pressing in or pushing back; it’s just the press of mouths. Until Scott’s fingers are bunching the fabric of Isaac’s shirt, tugging him in and kissing him properly. 

Well.

The injection hangs in Isaac’s limp fingers as he kisses Scott back, smooth sweeps of his tongue into Scott’s mouth, along the hard ridge of teeth. The thrum of the bass makes his heart feel like it’s going to beat right out of his chest. Isaac pulls away slowly. He feels like his head is full of cotton and all he can smell is Scott; but the weight of the injection in his hand brings him back and he winks before slipping into the crush of bodies in search of Jackson.

After the rave, there aren’t a lot of opportunities for Isaac to get Scott alone, until one afternoon after lacrosse practice. Stiles is busy serving yet another of his multitudes of detentions, and most of the other guys have already left. Isaac is taking his time in the shower; he’s not overly eager to return to the subway and grueling sparring practice, and there isn’t really anywhere else for him to go. There’s the distinct sound of a locker being slammed over the rush of water.

“Isaac!” Scott says as he rounds the corner, towel wrapped pre-emptively around his waist.

“Hey.”

“What are you still doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I was talking to Coach Finstock.”

Scott is paused half way between the locker room and the nearest shower. He’s staring unfocused at a spot on Isaac’s chest. Isaac brushes a finger across that spot and grins when Scott’s eyes shoot up to meet his again. “Well, I’m almost done, so you can have the showers to yourself.” He turns off the water and reaches for his towel on the wall to his right. 

“No,” Scott says abortively. He looks embarrassed. “I mean, don’t feel you have to rush, or whatever.”

“It’s okay, Scott. I’m finished anyway.”

There’s a tense furrow between Scott’s eyebrows that Isaac finds adorable and amusing. He wraps his towel around his hips and heads back to the locker room with the wave of a hand. He’s anticipating Scott’s fingers around his wrist, but it still surprises him. His skin sparks at all the points that Scott’s fingers touch. Scott’s urgent, insistent kiss is just as much of a surprise, but Isaac adapts easily, turning Scott to press him against the damp shower wall. Scott smells equal parts anxious and aroused. He’s digging blunt nails into Isaac’s back, pulling him close, while seemingly try to push him away. If Scott wants him to stop, all he has to do is say the word, but until then Isaac enjoys the hard packed muscle beneath smooth tanned skin against his own chest. 

Isaac drags himself away for breath, tracing the edge of his nose across Scott’s cheek to the curve of his jaw, beneath his ear. “Fuck you smell good,” Isaac groans. Scott repeats the noise and it echoes around the tiled space. Isaac sucks a lazy hickey into Scott’s neck, the other canting his hips up against Isaac’s thigh. It would be so easy to just give the towel a gentle tug and the frustrating barrier would go away. Scott makes a high keening sound as Isaac bites not-so-gently where he’s just been sucking and Isaac takes the opportunity to spider-walk his fingers down Scott’s spine and helps the towel make its exit from the proceedings. Isaac’s own towel follows suit. 

There’s a pregnant pause. Scott’s eyes are closed and he’s panting. There’s no escaping the fact that they’re both hard; but it’s the sudden absence of a physical barrier that as them both waiting for the other to make the first move. Scott makes it first, and the touch of his hand on Isaac’s cock pulls a choked sound from Isaac’s chest. His grip is just-this-side of too tight, and Isaac wonders if it’s because Scott’s nervous and wants to make it good, or because that’s how he touches his own cock. Scott’s fist pulls up in a torturously slow drag and Isaac pounds his fist against the wall, accidentally cracking a few tiles. “Touch me back,” Scott whispers. His eyes are still closed, but he’s licking his lips as though he’s lost in thought and his hand never stops moving.

Isaac freezes as they hear the door to Coach Finstock’s office open and close. The showers aren’t on, s there’s no reason for him to come and inspect, but they wait with bated breath until the heavy locker room door clicks shut with a whining squeak. “Holy fuck,” he breathes, and his fingers are wrapping around Scott’s cock – not long, but thick – and it fills his palm, hot and slick. “Holy fuck,” he repeats, because despite all his childish flirting, he didn’t ever think they’d get to where they are.

“Tighter,” Scott whines, as he pumps Isaac’s cock with confident strokes; whatever initial nervousness either of them had is rapidly melting away. 

“Tell me,” Isaac demands as he tightens his fingers and starts to stroke. 

“Faster,” Scott moans. Isaac does as he’s told and the change in Scott is near instant. His mouth falls open on a wordless cry and his knees jerk as Isaac moves his hand up and down, adding in a dirty twist of his palm over the head which has Scott nearly folding in half as he comes fast and hard across Isaac’s wrist.

Isaac moves to pull his hand away, but Scott shakes his head against Isaac’s shoulder. “No. Just… keep going.” Isaac thinks of the way his own cock feels after he comes, too sensitive, and he’s surprised by Scott’s request; but he lets his fingers ghost gently up and down as Scott brings him closer. “Tighter,” Scott gasps and Isaac is hesitant. He doesn’t want to hurt Scott. “It’s ok. Please. Keep going. Tight.”

Isaac watches as Scott’s face contorts in what looks like pain, but keeps going. The second Scott says stop, he’ll let go. When Scott’s eyes flicker open, the soft brown is overtaken by black pupil. He drags his tongue slowly across the curve of his bottom lip and Isaac is done. He sucks Scott’s lip into his mouth right as Scott’s thumb presses so perfectly just _there_. He bites down and his mouth is flooded with the metallic tinge of blood.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” Isaac says, moving away; but Scott’s lip is already healed, and he’s wiped the stray traces of blood from his chin.

“It’s fine, dude. Don’t worry.” There’s another heavy silence before Scott opens his mouth again. “I… you need to. I need you to stop. Okay?”

Isaac nods slowly. “Okay.”

“I mean, I like you. I _like you_. But there’s Allison, and I just—I can’t hurt her. Y’know?”

“No, I totally get it. No problem.” Isaac bends and picks his towel off the wet floor. “I’ll uh… I’ll leave you to it. I should get back anyway.”

“Isaac…” Scott calls, but Isaac is already at his locker, hastily pulling his clothes over his still damp body. He doesn’t regret what just happened, but to think that it might ever develop beyond some sick flirtation was a pipe dream. Of course, Allison. Of course. Isaac doesn’t even have it in him to hate her because of how fucking nice she is. Pulling on his leather jacket and grabbing his bag, he heads towards the subway and his packmates who will undoubtedly smell Scott all over him. He wants to care, but he can’t.


End file.
